The Gospel Proper

“Moreover, brethren, I declare unto you the gospel which I preached unto you, which also ye have received, and in which ye stand; By which also ye are saved, if ye keep in memory what I preached unto you, unless ye have believed in vain.  For I delivered unto you first of all that which I also received, that Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures; And that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day according to the scriptures; And that he was seen of Cephas, then of the twelve.  After that, he was seen of above five hundred brethren at once, of whom the greater part remain unto this present time, but some are fallen asleep.  After that he was seen of James; then, of all the apostles.  And last of all he was seen of me also, as of one born out of due time" (1 Corinthians 15:1-8).

I detest arguing about holy things.  Even when I am convinced of my position and speak ever so respectfully, I almost always leave “the field of battle” feeling exhausted, dejected, and introspective for days.  And yet, for reasons I don't quite understand, I sometimes feel compelled to enter the fray.  This occurred recently when I got into a dispute with a man about the nature of the gospel.  His contention was that we preach the gospel both by how we live and by what we say.  At first, I hoped he had simply misspoken.  So I interjected by saying that while it is important to be kind, moral, etc., preaching the gospel should in no way suggest, either directly or indirectly, that someone should imitate us even as we are attempting to imitate Christ.  In other words, we must be extremely careful to distinguish the gospel proper from its consequences.  And while I recognize that preaching the gospel by how we live is a popular construction today, it is, to me, a clear mixing of law and gospel.  (By law, I mean anything we ought to be or do with or without the assistance of grace).

From 1 Corinthians 15 quoted above, note how Paul defines the gospel he preached, namely, “that Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures; And that he was buried, and the he rose again the third day according to the scriptures.”   In other words, the gospel proper is only about what Christ alone has done for us.  It is not about our response to it nor the fruit it might bear through us.  To put it another way, it is not about the work of the Holy Spirit in us.  The gospel proper is a message - it's good news.

Paul further presses the Corinthians to keep this gospel “in memory . . . unless ye have believed in vain.”  Thus, it appears not only is the gospel of ultimate importance but its composition can be easily distorted.  As the Australian biblical scholar, Graeme Goldsworthy, once said:

“A pivotal point of turning in evangelical thinking which demands close attention in my mind is the change that has taken place from the Reformation emphasis upon the objective facts of the Gospel in history to the Medieval emphasis on the inner life.  The evangelical who sees the inward transforming work of the Spirit as the key element of Christianity will soon lose contact with the historic faith and the historic gospel (underlining added).” 

So how does focusing on the inner life distort the gospel?  Answer: the moment the gospel proper becomes about you being this or doing that, it is transformed from gospel into law.  Helmut Thielicke, the noted German theologian, explains:

“This is what would happen, for example, if the Gospel were thought to require an 'imitation of Christ,' and thus to be 'good news' only insofar as I fulfill this lex evangelica.  In this case the Gospel would again cease to be an expression of the free and unconditional grace of God, since it would be linked with certain presuppositions, with certain acts of obedience and sanctification.  It would no longer protect me against that torturing and enslaving inversion of outlook which must arise the moment I have to go on taking stock of myself and at the same time running my life on the basis of whether I have fulfilled the required conditions, whether I have met the demands, and whether I may consequently (!) apply to myself the promise of the Gospel.  Here it can no longer be a matter of ‘grace alone,’ but only of explicit ‘cooperation’ and ‘conditions.’"*  (Translated from German by John W. Doberstein)

But why is this so dangerous?  Because, like God's law in its purest form, a mixture of law and gospel leads to despair for the serious minded.  And because it is passed off as the gospel proper, it is faith-crushing and soul-destroying.  Thielicke continues,

“this . . . leads to assaults of doubt [Anfechtung], to uncertainty of faith, and to a stress on mastery of self.  In place of the glad and sure acceptance of a filial relationship which is granted to me sola gratia, the best that this . . . form can offer me is a sublimated form of servile fear which forces me constantly to produce evidence that I am – not a son but – a good servant who may remind God of the reciprocal obligations of the contract and of His covenant faithfulness.  The profoundest mystery of justification, namely, that God protects me against myself and the accusation of my own heart and conscience, that he is Deus defensor against the cor accusator, is quite inexplicable along these lines.  Instead of receiving comfort and assurance afforded me in the miracle of divine mercy, I am condemned to permanent assaults of doubt.”

None of this, however, means that how we live or treat others is irrelevant to the mission of the church or our own pursuit of holiness.  Part of our responsibility, our penultimate goal with respect to the Great Commission, is to “Make straight the way of the Lord” (John 1:23).  That is, we must be diligent not to hinder the gospel but rather do all we can to advance it.  For example, if a man is hungry, we feed him.  If he is naked, we clothe him, etc.  This is necessary because how can a hungry, naked man really focus his mind on the message of forgiveness or believe we have his best interests at heart if we ignore his pitiable state.  No doubt, our God can “break in pieces the gates of brass, and cut in sunder the bars of iron” (Isaiah 45:2), meaning He can and sometimes does overcome any and every obstacle without any help from us.  But in the main, He chooses to use us as his co-laborers in the ministry of reconciliation.  And yet even with our legitimate attempts at making “straight the way," this is not preaching the gospel.  No man has ever been reconciled to God because he was fed, clothed, or given a job.  He has never intuitively figured out the way of grace by looking at our “good example.”  No, every sinner must still hear the preaching of the cross.  As Paul asked in Romans 10:17, “How shall they believe in him of whom they have not heard?  And how shall they hear without a preacher?”

*If you think this formulation of the gospel is antinomian, consider the words of Martyn Lloyd Jones, preaching from Romans 3:3.  He says,

"The Gospel, you see, comes as this free gift of God – irrespective of what man does. . . . You see – what is not evangelical preaching is this: It’s the kind of preaching that says to people, 'Now, if you live a good life; if you don’t commit certain sins; and if you do good to others; and if you become a church member and attend regularly and are busy and active you will be a fine Christian and you’ll go to Heaven.' That’s the opposite of Evangelical preaching – and it isn’t exposed to the charge of Antinomianism because . . . it is telling men to save themselves by their good works . . . And it’s not the Gospel – because the Gospel always exposes itself to this misunderstanding from the standpoint of Antinomianism.  So, let all of us test our preaching, our conversation, our talk to others about the Gospel by that particular test . . . If you don’t make people say things like that sometimes, if you’re not misunderstood and slanderously reported from the standpoint of Antinomianism it’s because you don’t believe the Gospel truly and you don’t preach it truly."

Thank God for Paxil

There is an undercurrent in some corners of Evangelicalism that says anyone who takes antidepressants, whether for depression proper or anxiety (both of which could be called a form of melancholia), is simply masking over a sin problem in his life.   If he would simply repent, then these “crutches” would not be necessary.  In the last couple of years, I’ve heard at least two preachers say that while there are some people who have medical conditions that warrant the use of antidepressants, most mental health problems are related to unresolved issues of guilt in people’s lives.  Whether this is true, I am not qualified to say.  But I strongly suspect that neither of these preachers was qualified to make this judgment either.  More likely than not, they were parroting what they had heard some nouthetic counselor say - with one unintended consequence being that anyone known to be taking these meds automatically is brought under suspicion of being unrepentant.

No doubt, there is a kind of anxiety that is always sin, such as worrying about the necessities of life (Matthew 6:25).  But there is also anxiety that comes with the acknowledgment of sin (Psalm 38:3).  Likewise, there is depression which flows from a discontentment with the way God disposes of us, and then there is depression that is a discontentment with being alienated from God (or feeling this to be the case).  And although a person needs to turn to Christ in each of these cases, this doesn’t immediately alleviate the symptoms of depression or anxiety.  Why?  Because even a believer often struggles to believe.  Roland Bainton in his famous biography of Martin Luther rightly said:

“. . . faith in Christ is far from simple and easy because he is an astounding king, who, instead of defending his people, deserts them.  Whom he would save he must first make a despairing sinner.  Whom he would make wise he must first turn into a fool.  Whom he would make alive he must first kill.  Whom he would bring to honor he must first bring to dishonor.  He is a strange king who is nearest when he is far and farthest when he is near.”

Add to this that in many cases melancholia has an organic component.  Such people have a mental illness or defect.  Granted, the illness may have some connection to sin, either personal or the sin of Adam, yet that in no way precludes medicine to help the person function again.  To argue that would be the equivalent of prohibiting chemotherapy to someone who once smoked cigarettes or prohibiting heart surgery to someone who had been a couch potato.  Neither logic nor compassion can go there.

Consider the counsel of Richard Baxter in his Christian Directory to those prone to melancholia.  He said:

“. . . commit yourself to the care of your physician, and obey him; and do not as most melancholy persons do, that will not believe that physic [medicine] will do them good, but that it is only their soul that is afflicted; for it is the spirits, imagination, and passions, that are diseased, and so the soul is like an eye that looketh through a coloured glass, and thinks all things are of the same colour as the glass is.  I have seen abundance cured by physic; and till the body be cured, the mind will hardly ever be cured . . .”

Now, I’m sure there are people that abuse antidepressants and doctors who over-prescribe them.  But what is there in this world that’s not abused by sinners?  Even justified, sanctified sinners?  We sometimes eat too much, drive too fast, or say things we shouldn’t say.  But does that mean because these things can be abused that anyone who eats or drives or talks should have a cloud of suspicion hanging over their heads?  Of course not.  But why the distinction between these activities and the taking of legal, often helpful medications?  Because people who are prone to deep debilitating depression or anxiety are strange, sad people.  And although their deformity isn’t physically manifest, it might as well be because it makes “normal people” feel uncomfortable.  The deeply melancholy are a small minority, and the majority simply cannot comprehend why these people don’t just pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and get on with living.  Or to make it sound more “spiritual,” they wonder why these sad ones can't just repent and trust God.

Note: For further reading on this topic, see D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones’ book, Healing and the Scriptures, particularly the chapter entitled “Body, Mind, and Spirit.”